


Find Your Way Home

by Emilia



Series: The Wrath of Sithis [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Bad Ending, Betrayal, Canonical Character Death, Confusion, Denial of Feelings, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Feelings, Feels, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lies, Love/Hate, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilia/pseuds/Emilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucien Lachance is dead but the vibrant passion that his Silencer held for him still lingers on. She is dead set on uncovering the Traitor and proving to the remaining fragments of the Brotherhood his and her own innocence. But when they are finally unmasked, a new burden weighs down...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bellamont

**Author's Note:**

> I ended up redoing this one because I felt like I could've done so much more with it. Loosely follows the Dark Brotherhood questline and also lots of mixed feelings afloat. Hopefully this one will be better than the last.

In the early morning of Applewatch, a piercing scream echoed throughout the dry land. A flock of birds had flown out of their nesting homes in some neighboring trees; the sudden sound had scared them off. The screaming soon churned and formed into wailing, which also turned into pitiful sobbing.

Inside the small little farmhouse, a woman with looks of Breton origins laid on the floor, crying and screaming at the sigh before her: A corpse strung upside down, drastic portions of its naked body were missing. The woman caressed the upper part of his cheek, muttering pieces of nonsense to herself. The cold air outside had managed to numb her lower legs and nose, but her heart still noticeably ached. She felt the rest of her body begin to curl up on the floor, the side of her head touching the dusty floor.

“It’s okay,” a gentle, soothing voice hushed her, feeling an arm wrap around her. She identified this voice to belong to her last living friend, Mathieu Bellamont. He gave her a somewhat comforting, yet partially demented smile. "I'm here," he assured her.

"But everyone else isn't," she whimpered, laying her head on his shoulder. She gripped his hand as she let out another howl, feeling his hand stroking the ends of her hair. "Lucien is gone, so is everyone else!" She looked up to him, her vision partially blurred due to the tears, "All I have left is you."

He said nothing to this, only looking down. He nodded instead, absent-mindedly stroking her hand with his thumb. She shook and quivered in his arms, he leant her his strength to help her up onto her feet. She still leaned on him, one hand clutched onto his robe.

Another person dressed in the matching black robes attempted to console her, an Altmer marveled at the sight of the hanging carcass. A smile teased across the elf's lips, looking to the younger, much shorter girl, "It is quite a work of art, isn't it? Truly something worthy of the Void."

She only glared in return, managing to push Bellamont off and stand on her own. Her legs still shook, but the ferocity in her eyes no longer held any trace other than anger. "Let's see what he thinks after I send you there-"

"Carciniea," Bellamont grabbed the Silencer's arm, tugging her back some. The elf looked to her with a hint of surprise at this reply.

She let Bellamont encase her in his arms once more, though she continued to give the Speaker a fiery glare. She laid her head against him, wrapping her own arms around him in return. Her eyes turned to the hanging body that swayed to and fro, instantly feeling them begin to burn with tears once more. "It wasn't Lucien, Mathieu, you know he'd never betray us," she clutched onto him once more, only curling up closer and closer to him, “Lucien… the Traitor… He deceived me, had me under his watch and used me to his will! I didn’t know any better, Mathieu. I didn't know…”

“It would seem she’s become hysterical,” he spoke gravely not to Carciniea, but for his fellow Speakers, “What should we call for a plan on action? Lachance is dead, after all…”

“It wasn’t him!” She broke free to look the others, practically screaming at them, “The Traitor is still among us! One of us, in this room! Lucien was innocent-“

The Altmer raised a hand to silence her, their other two behind her were deep in a whispered discussion as they stared at the two. Once they had come to some sort of agreement, the Dunmer stepped forward to whisper something then back away once more. “I believe I have heard enough,” she finally dropped her hand, “Our new plan is travel down to Bravil and meet with the Night Mother. There we will see where to go from there. I would prefer it if we all stuck together…” She narrowed her eyes at Carciniea, “… Unless there is a problem with that arrangement.”

Carciniea drew what little strength she had and picked herself with surprising grace, strutting herself in front of the elf to which they both scanned each other for small, petty imperfections or physical quirks. She puffed out her chest, pointing her nose in the air, “I have but one thing to say to you.”

The elf arched an eyebrow and quietly waited for a response. Carciniea pulled back a balled up fist and clashed it hard against the other’s nose. She fell back, her fellow members of the Black Hand rushing to help her up. Even Bellamont stood up, gawking at the momentarily dazed elf and tried to hide a smirk.

“Are you okay, Arquen?” He asked, sounding more joking than concerned. This much had gotten a proud smile out of Carciniea, triumphantly placing her hands on her hip. She felt Bellamont’s hand brush against the other side of her waist, feeling his breath against her ear, “That was quite… Marvelous. You are quite marvelous.”

She said nothing in return to this, only watching as the elf, Arquen, began to pick herself back up and wipe the blood that ran from her nose onto her sleeve. She held a hand tightly over her nose, a small ray of golden light emitted from inside her hand. After a split moment she released it, gasping something to herself. “Oh, my nose…” she grimaced at the lingering pain, narrowing her eyes at the girl opposite of her, “We’ll just wait and see what the Night Mother deems fit for you. After she’s chosen her new Listener, of course.” She turned to leave, the other two Speakers obediently followed after her.

Carciniea began to reluctantly pull herself towards the door, but her friend had snatched by the hand and turned her around to face him. She felt fearful for but a second once she saw the fearful expression on Bellamont’s face. “Please,” he whispered, “You and I don’t have to go. We can run off together, forget about this business. Let me visit the Night Mother with them and you can stay here. We could have a life together! You remember what you said to me back in Cheydinhal, don’t you? Together until the very end?”

She grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him ever so gently, “What’s gotten into you? It won’t be the end of the world! I can’t just leave, not while they sit and think of me as an accomplice to the Traitor. I need to prove Lucien and I are loyal, even if he’ll never see the day. They need to know.”

He shook his head, his face quickly contorting. He rested his head on her shoulder, pulling her into a tight embrace. She felt uneasy about this quick change of emotions, a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach began to churn. “It’s okay,” she assured him, stroking his back, “Odds are that elf- What’s her name? Arquen? I’m almost entirely certain she is the real traitor. I can handle her.” He lifted his head up after a few minutes, all the life seemed to have drained from his face. She stroked his cheek with her hand, nodding for  him to take leave. He did so, meeting up with the other robed three. She stepped into the threshold, silently watching them with suspicion. Even if Arquen was the traitor, the other two would blindly follow her commands it would seem. She had to trust in her strength to keep her and close friend alive.

She turned back to look at the hanging corpse, no longer teary-eyed. “I’ll fix this,” she promised it, taking one last, long moment to stare at it. It pained her to tear her eyes away, but she must. The sun was already poking out and it would be nightfall when they reached Bravil. She still kept close to Mathieu who still urged her to leave, but instead she grabbed his hand and reassured him it was all going to be okay.


	2. Where Friendship Ends

By nightfall the small group had left the dangers of the Cyrodilic province and enter one of the slummiest and dirtiest cities in the country: Bravil. Most of them were repulsed by the stench that wafted through the city and only one or two seemed to have not noticed.

 

Arquen had leaded them to an old statue Carciniea had encountered before: The Lucky Old Statue. She recalled a few moments of her childhood where she traveled with her oldest brother, Adophum, and gave a few septims to the old statue. It had been one of her favorite sights as a child, leading her to be surprised when they gathered around it.

 

The elf stood before the rest to the old statue, reciting an old incantation under her breath. To only Carciniea’s astonishment, it seemed, the metals creaked and shifted into a new position; no longer taking the form of the benevolent of lady.

 

The other three began to ascend down the steps, Bellamont clutching onto Carciniea’s hand before she had the chance to follow. “There’s still time to leave,” he attempted to pull her away from the statue, “You don’t have to do this! Let me go and I can clear your name for you, just… Please don’t go. I don’t want you to.”

 

Her expression had turned sour at this, since he had been attempting to persuade her to leave the whole travel to the rundown city, “Matheiu, please. We can do this together, neither one of us has to go alone. This is _my_ name on the line, remember? Have faith in me.”

 

Mathieu grimaced in return, though he remained silent. She kissed him on the cheek as an attempt to apologize before tugging on his hand to follow the others down the steps. At one point she made a groan as a putrid smell wafted through the air, smelling like death itself.

 

Below the cities laid an underground crypt that held about five small skeletons that foot of an altar where a full adult corpse laid. She absent mindedly released her friend’s hand from her grasp, leaving him behind to approach a ghostly, ethereal figure.

 

Carciniea approached this figure, whom she assumed was to be the Night Mother herself. Arquen had already mentioned by this point that they had slain the apparent traitor, Lucien Lachance. The Night Mother’s face contorted into anger, her voice raising and piercing their ears, “You fools! Lucien Lachance served Sithis until his last dying breath!”

 

Carciniea leaned towards Arquen, lowering her voice so only the elf could hear, “Just saying, but I told you so.”

 

“So if Lucien wasn’t the traitor, then that means…” Arquen’ eyes widened as did Carciniea’s at a realization. They felt a sudden fear rush through them, as they now understood that the traitor was still among them and Arquen was no longer on the list of possibilities.

 

The girls turned back at the sound of slumping and something large hitting the ground. The other fellows that accompanied Arquen and Bellamont laid dead, one laying on top of another on the ground. Above them stood the Traitor- Mathieu Bellamont. He held his dagger in one hand, his other hand shaking off the blood on his glove. A bit of blood had been splattered across his face, though it was doubtful he noticed.

 

Arquen had been so stricken with shock she jumped back a few inches, clutching onto the closest object in her reach. Carciniea, on the other hand, looked at him with a great mixture of repulsion, confusion, and fear. She shook her head, taking one step forward toward her former friend. "Oh- Oh, Mathieu..." She whispered with undeniable grief in her voice.

 

"Don't look at me like that," Bellamont hissed, "Why the surprise? Didn't I try to tell you to leave, that it'd be dangerous? No, no you did not listen- No one ever does!"

 

She felt the sudden need to flee from the crypt, to set off and leave Arquen to defend herself. But the fear was soon drowned in boiling rage, angry that she had given up so much to be betrayed. She took a few steps forward, "Didn't you also say you'd protect me? You reference how I said we would be best friends forever. And this is what you had in mind?!"

 

"I wanted to protect you-"

 

"Yet you destroyed me!" She retorted, her words coming out in the sound of sobs.

 

His face fell, looking away from Carciniea. She felt her chest heave, taking a few steps toward him. Arquen tried to step in to assist the destruction of the Traitor, but the Night Mother halted her. "Let the lovers quarrel," the Unholy Matron commanded, intently watching the two with interest.

 

The other two had ignored this, remaining eerily silent as they waited for the other to break it.

 

"I was going to kill you," Bellamont admitted, looking down with the disbelief of his own words, "When you and I had first met. I didn't know any better, I thought you were another mindless follower of Sithis. But you were more than that. You reasoned and thought, you made me feel like I wasn't as alone as I previously believed. Like another half..." His face soon contorted, "Then _he_ came along..."

 

"Don't you talk about Lucien in that manner," she growled.

 

Bellamont flew into a rage at the sound of the name, stomping on one of the bodies' chest repeatedly, "He is not a good person! He is not someone to admire or show affection for, but worse! He ruins lives, ruins family! Don't you remember what is was like to have a family? Before your own brother died?"

 

Carciniea wiped a few tears from her eyes, feeling the blood rush into her cheeks, "I do. And it feels terrible to lose someone you love, but don't you understand? What you're doing is no better. We all loved each other in our own way, platonic or romantic. I've hurt and been hurt many times, but you have to take it and try to move on. Would your mother want this? Do you think Maria wanted this? Do you think I would ever want this?"

 

By now both Bretons were crying, Carciniea's voice beginning to waver while Bellamont showed no effort in containing his tears. Both of them knew where this would be headed and one of them would be walking out of the tomb alive. Bellamont pressed his thumb against the edge of his dagger, losing his patience. He let out a howl of anguish, "I love you, Carciniea. I always have and I always will. But I know you can't love me in the same way, because I'm not Lachance. Just like Mother- Just like Maria- This is the end. I tried to avoid this but now I know I can't stop the inevitable."

 

 

She licked her lips, drawing her own dagger- The blade of woe Lucien had given her. All remorse had drained from her eyes, leaving behind a husk of regret. "May the better assassin win," she let out a humorless chuckle.

 

He quickly charged at her, his speed was much quicker than she had anticipated. She did manage to almost completely dodge the blow, her thigh suffering a long slice by the blade. She tried to catch herself but her damaged leg had quickly lost all feeling and gave in under her. She could hear his footsteps quickly coming back her way, kicking her good foot up in time to get him in the jaw. Bellamont toppled back some, Carciniea taking this moment to pull herself up and cut into his chest.

 

Before she pulled back he snatched her by the wrist, shoving her down onto the ground. As she hit the floor she shut her eyes tight and held her dagger out blindly, to her surprise she felt a pressure being pulled onto it. She bit her lip, looking up to see her dagger pierced into Bellamont's chest. They both seemed shocked by this turn of events; Carciniea immediately took the dagger out and threw it on the ground.

 

Bellamont collapsed onto his knees, falling into Carciniea's arms. Despite all that had occurred in the last few minutes, she wanted to give him the death he deserved: To die with someone who loved him. She slipped off his hood, stroking his hair. One hand clasped her own, squeezing it as hard as his diminishing strength could allow. He opened his mouth and seemed to have been struggling to say something. She already knew what he was trying to say, simply hushing him and saying in return, "I forgive you.”

 

The ends of his mouth curled into a smile, his hand giving her's one last squeeze before falling to the ground. Carciniea didn't realize he passed on until a single moment later, when she heard a ghostly hiss floating around her, "So tragic, it is. It's almost as if it's... Storybook."

 

The Night Mother had circled the Breton, eyeing her carefully. She leaned down, a hand outstretched as if to try and touch Bellamont, to which the Silencer swatted the hand away and lowly growled, "Don't touch him."

 

The ghostly woman had shot her a cold look, her arm extending to the lonely blade of woe. She picked it up, a bright red light encompassing it in the Unholy Matron's hands as the blade was reborn. Carciniea had yet to realize she had thrown down the old blade until the Night Mother set it down before her. Instead of its usual crimson gleam, there laid within the metal red lettering that glowed brightly: _Vengeance._

 

 

"Take it as a token of gratitude. Poor dear never saw it coming…” She shook her head, tsk’ing away at the limp body, “It never gets easier, watching your children die like this…”

 

Carciniea narrowed her eyes, feeling as if she was on the edge of learning of some kind of sick truth. She felt as if everything that had happened wasn’t enough, that there was some kind of secret side that was kept in the dark. “Did you…” She took a shaky breath, “Did you know this was going to happen? That almost everyone was going to die?”

 

The Night Mother let out a cold laugh, turning away from the assassin. “From the moment Mathieu Bellamont entered this physical world, I knew what was to come of him. Just as I knew when you entered as well. What I didn’t account for, though, was the-“

“We’re not lovers,” she quickly cut her off, bringing up Bellamont’s head and laying it on the ground. She patted herself off, getting a grip of her nerves, “Never were, never will be. Even if there was a chance, it’s gone now.”

 

“Oh?” The Night Mother teased a smirk, “Nothing is ever truly gone, my dear. We all live on in the Void, no matter what happens to us here. Are you still too busy chasing after something you can’t have that you are willing to neglect what you do have?”

 

Carciniea straightened her back at these words, ever so slightly tilting her head.

 

She looked to Arquen who seemed in awe by the whole transaction. She felt the old rage she previously felt build up in her stomach, her eyes hardening back on the Unholy Matron, “So you’re telling me that you knew everything before it happened, yet you let it all unravel?”

 

“No need to put it so harshly. I served my duty as all my children do, for better or for worse. But that is besides the initial point of this. Now that our little performance is over, shall we continue?” She turned to face both Arquen and Carciniea, who stepped forward, “You two are the sole remaining survivors of both the Brotherhood and Black Hand. It is up to you two to revive the Brotherhood’s strength.”

 

 

 

 

I hate you, I hate you so much. I want to burn this whole crypt down and watch you suffer. You are a lie I once held high and you are my biggest mistake. Your existence is a mistake, Carciniea thought as the Night Mother went on. She imagined setting the crypt aflame and trapping both spirit and elf in the small tomb. For just a moment, she was tempted to finish Bellamont’s own work.

 

“Carciniea?” Arquen finally spoke up, gently shaking her by the shoulder.

 

The Breton snapped out of her daydream, quietly apologizing and bowing her head. She felt the Night Mother’s chilling hands grasp her shoulders, a wide grin beginning to stretch, “I was telling you both that you no longer have to worry about contracts. You are my new Listener, child.”

 

“I personally rather Arquen be the Listener. She has more experience in this field than I-“

 

“Arquen has as much experience as Listener as you. She will assist you in any questions you have so long as you ask them. You have proven yourself well, tonight. No longer will you have to be burdened with the position of Silencer,” her hands slid down to Carciniea’s elbows before letting go completely.

 

She began to shake her head in return, taking a step back. “I said I don’t want to. I… I quit.”

 

“Listener,” Arquen said rather cordially, “This is quite an honor in our profession. You can’t just leave while we’re in this rut.”

The Night Mother cupped the young Breton’s face into her ghostly hands, singing to her in a tone that sent shivers up her spine, “You’re one of us. There is no going back, my dear. We’re family- Forever and always.”


End file.
